Stay Gold
by heaters-and-switchblades
Summary: A trip to Tulsa takes a weird turn. As teenager Nala is forced to do chores around her grandmother's house, she comes across a box containing a diary written by her grandmother back in the 1960's. As she reads deeper, and deeper into it, she starts to learn her family's secrets... and then some. *Story alternates between Nala and a young version of her grandmother, Elaine.*
1. Beginning

My name is Nala. Nala Christine Thomas, to be more proper. I have a twin sister named Nova. We have different names. I was always curious as to how we got our names, but every time I would dare ask our mother, we'd never get a direct answer.

_'I liked those names'_, or, _'I wanted you two to stand out more.'_

I guess, if you really thought about it, we _were_ different. But it was the kind of different you wouldn't take a second glance at. Only _we_ noticed it. To everybody else, we were perfectly normal.

We attended a regular high school, as juniors. Only one more year to go before we finally graduated. We had a lot of friends. I guess you could consider us 'popular', or 'good', like most of the people there. Then you had your band of misfits. Screw ups, burn outs, and so on. You get the idea. They were the type of people we were sheltered from. My mom, she always said they were natural-born killers, and that they were dangerous. Hell, she even said that if we looked at them the wrong way, they would beat us to a bloody pulp! I never thought that, however, I always was fascinated by them. I even would go behind mom's back to hang out with them. Not all of them were bad. Not all of them were drug addicts, or even appeared dangerous. I liked them.

I secretly hung out with them, though. If word were to ever get around to Nova, or any of our other friends, I'd be nothing but a joke. I'd be considered trash. That's not how I want to be thought as. I never saw them as trash, just... people. Regular people. Everybody else, though, they saw them as trouble.

There was this one boy. His name was Hunter. He happened to be the sweetest, most caring person I've ever met. I couldn't say if I liked him or not, but something about him defiantly caught my eye. I wanted to get to know him better, mother permitting.

It's a Saturday afternoon. I slept in until about 2. I overslept, so when my phone alarm went off, I panicked. I rushed to get ready to go meet Hunter. Not before looking at myself in the mirror.

"God, I look like shit," I whispered to myself. "Even if he liked me," I thought, "I wouldn't stand a chance against him... I'm not edgy enough."

Let's take a run-down about everything that's wrong with my appearance, shall we? I have medium-length burgundy-ish hair. I always had a natural red-auburn color, but I wanted something that stood out a little more. I was short. About 4'11". Nova was around the same height, half an inch taller, maybe. No piercings. No tattoos. The truth is, I would love to be rebellious. Well, not rebellious, but to do something with my body. I felt too... Plain. The only thing I'd ever do to spice up my appearance was wear makeup. That was it. The way I'd dress was a combination of glitter and vintage. Whoa, there's the rebel in me. Glitter makes you tough, right?

My personality didn't go with my appearance, truthfully, and everybody noticed that. I was a smartass, I had a mouth 'like a truck driver', as my mom would say, and I fought. I liked fighting. I liked watching fights. I always felt like I was born into the wrong family, like I was adopted, or something. But then I took one look at Nova and realized we were the same person, outwardly, of course.

I finally made my way downstairs and almost out the front door.

"Where are you going?", asked my mom.

I stood there, trying to figure out an excuse before she caught me in a lie.

"Going to the mall, gotta go do some weekly window shopping," I faked a laugh. That was keyword for 'get the hell out of my way so I can go see a gorgeous boy'.

She raised an eyebrow and shook her head, "Did you forget what you had to do today?"

I stood there, confused, trying to get a grasp on what she was saying.

"Well?", she asked again.

I shrugged and prepared for the shit storm that was about to be stored upon me.

"What's today, other than Saturday?"

Of course, she looked annoyed, and then let out a sigh, "You and your sister are supposed to go out to your grandmother's to help clean out her attic. She hasn't been feeling well, and can't do too much. You should know that already, Nalz."

"Should I? Should I?", I questioned angrily in my head. The woman expects me to know these things, like she thinks I'm psychic or something.

I held back a lot I wanted to say, so I just nodded and called for Nova.

She bitched and moaned and said she wasn't going. What was her excuse? She was "sick", when hours before, she was up and running around. And mom believed her.

"Thomas, party of one, your bus to hell has arrived and is ready for take-off", I thought.

Don't get me wrong, though. I love my grandma, I just hate when Nova ditches me because she doesn't want to do a little hard labor.

Here I am on a beautiful Saturday afternoon, driving to my grandmother's house, and not seeing a cute boy and his followers.

Welcome to the life of Nala.


	2. Trip

I drove the (what seemed to be forever) 45-minute drive to my grandma's house. She lived in Tulsa, while myself, my sister, my mom and my dad lived in Haskell. It was a smaller city, but it was decent. I had a great life, so I couldn't complain.

I finally reached her little house, it didn't look as run-down as it used to back in the day, like my mom said. She used to tell me stories about all the gang violence here, and how my grandad almost got killed by a gang of greasers back when he was my age.

My grandfather, who's been dead for about three years now, always joked about it. He never took it too seriously, from the sounds of it. He'd always say _'Those damn greasers caught me off guard! I could have pounded them and sent them all to the hospital!' _

He said he wasn't even close to dying, he said that my mom was just trying to scare Nova and I into behaving. Which, I must admit, has worked for 16 years.

I walked up the old, rustic stairs to my grandma's house and let myself in.

"Gram, you home? It's me, Nala!", I announced.

She came out from the kitchen, with a smile on her face.

"Hi, Nala. Girl, you get prettier and prettier every time I see you. Your daddy needs to buy a shotgun to keep them boys away from you," she joked. "Come on in, stay awhile."

And I did just that. I sat on the couch near her recliner, as she sat beside me.

"How's your mom? And Nova? Why don't you guys ever come to visit that often? I get mighty lonely ever since your grandaddy's been gone," she said, and kind of sounded like a sigh.

"Mom's fine, everyone's fine. Nova's just being lazy. We've all been busy, Gram. But at least I'm here now," I paused, and smiled reassuringly, "Actually... Mom mentioned something about you moving in with us. How awesome would that be! We'd be together all the time-"

The look on Gram's face instantly changed.

"No, absolutely not!", she exclaimed. "There are too many memories here, that I'm not giving up. This old town has a lot of memories, and a lot of secrets that I'm not quite ready to give up." She got up from the chair and headed back into the kitchen. She seemed upset. I didn't even realize that I said anything that would have made her mad, or offended her.

"Want any iced tea, sweetheart?", she called out.

Just to be nice, I said yes. When really, I wanted to clean and get the hell out of dodge.

Gram came out of the kitchen again a few minutes later with two classes of iced tea. She handed one to me, and I took a small sip of it and set it on the coffee table.

"So, what do you want me to do today?", I asked, even though I already knew the answer.

She smiled, "Would you mind so much to clean the attic? It's not horrid, I promise. Just throw out the junk up there. Anything you want up there, you can keep."

"What would I want to do with a bunch of stuff that's older than my parents?", I asked myself.

Of course, I held that comment back and just nodded. I drank a little more of the tea before making my way up into the attic.

I opened up the attic door. Everything up there was dusty, and there were cob webs everywhere, like nobody had been up there in centuries. There were boxes. Everywhere. My job was to go through the boxes to see what was in there. What I could keep, what Gram wanted to keep, and what she wanted in the garbage or donated to Goodwill.

I opened and closed boxes for a good hour and a half. I was hot, I was tired, I wanted to leave. As I was ready to leave the attic, I found a lone box over in the far corner. I was pissed at the fact that I missed it, and that I'd have to be up there longer than I had to be.

I hurried over to the box. I examined it. There was no writing on the outside like the others. I took a peak on what was in the inside. Books, unused journals, and different a photo album. I didn't look in any of them, though. I just wanted to leave. Not without the box, though. I figured I could use some of the journals for my own writing and drawings.

I carefully went down the ladder going back down to the main level of the house, box included.

"Find anything you want?", Gram chuckled.

I nodded briefly and laughed, "Just some books that I could read in school when I don't feel like doing anything."

"Nala," she sighed, "you know I don't like you talking like that. I actually want to see you graduate."

I felt a little bad after she said that, "I know, Gram, but I was only kidding. You know I'm a good student. Nova, on the other hand...", I paused and laughed. Gram laughed as well.

"You're right," she began, "I hope you like the books. They might be kind of boring to you, though, considering they're older than dirt. I don't even know what the hell is in there!" She admitted.

With that being said, I gave her a hug and a kiss, and was on my way home. The whole drive, I began to get a little curious of the box, and what else might be in there.


	3. Family Secret

The ride home seemed to go by faster than the ride there. Before I knew it, I was home with a lazy sister, an overprotective mother, and a father whom I never saw. To tell you the truth, out of everyone in my family, besides my grandmother, I liked my dad the best. That also might of been because he was my grandmother's son.

I always wondered why my parents were even together. They were nothing alike whatsoever. My mom was overprotective, bossy, and like to control everyone and everything. My dad was laid back most of the time, I couldn't really complain about him, other than him not being home much of the time, or being in our garage most of the time.

My dad fixed cars for a living. It was something he loved, and I was almost sure he loved it more than Nova and I. But, I could be wrong. He had a sense of humor, much like Gram's. I was still surprised on how he could stay with my mother with her being so uptight.

That might be one thing about love that I will never understand.

I walk into my house, box and all. Mother was nowhere to be found. Nova was still on the couch on her laptop. Father, well... Hell if I know where he is. Everything was normal.

Nova peaked up from her computer screen, "How was Gram's? She give you money? What's that?"

The usual questions she'd ask whenever she'd leave me to go to Gram's by myself.

I rolled my eyes, "She gave me this box. It has books and stuff in it. Nothing you'd be interested in though, it has to do with learning, and doesn't have a penis," I cracked up.

Nova gave me one of her "you're such a bitch I hate you" looks, but didn't say anything. She looked back at her computer screen, probably knowing I was right.

I walked upstairs and went in my room, closing the door behind me. I put the box on my bed and sat next to it, ready to investigate me.

I spend about 20 minutes reinvestigating the box and all of it contents. There were books, many unused journals, and a few photo albums. I began looking through the photo albums. They mainly had picture of Gram in it. Gram when she was a baby, Gram when she was in high school, Gram on her wedding day, and so on. There were even pictures of my Grandad in them. Then there were pictures of my dad as a baby, when he was growing up, his senior pictures, and when he married my mom. There was a book of poems as well. From the looks of everything in this box, it didn't look like it had been opened since the late 80's, or even the early 90's.

A spent another decent period of time looking through the different photos and poems. Before my phone rang, at least. I was almost not gonna answer it, until I saw the caller ID.

Hunter's name showed up. I didn't hesitate to answer it after that.

"Hello?" I spoke into the phone.

"Nala," he began, "where have you been? I was beginning to think you forgot about me." He sounded disappointed, sad even.

"No, no!" I exclaimed, "Not even. I'd been at my grandma's all day, doing chores," I said, sounding bored half to death.

Hunter began telling me about his day, about how some douche bags my sister probably boned, he got into a fight with. As he was telling me about everything, I noticed another book in the box. A journal or diary of some sort. It was dusty, so it was hard to make out what the words were on the cover. I wiped it off a bit, revealing "Elaine Williams" on it, Gram's name.

I hadn't realized I wasn't saying anything on the phone for a long time, zoning out until Hunter repeated "Nala", at least a dozen times.

"Sorry about that," I began, "I...uh, can't come tonight. Something just came up and it's rather important," I tried sounding convincing.

"Oh," Hunter said, sounding even more disappointed. "Is everything okay?", he eventually asked.

"Everything's fine, just family stuff. Can I take a raincheck on tonight?" I sighed. I felt bad, but I was also interested in what was in that journal. Maybe it had the secret to why I was so fucking weird. Probably not, though. Wishful thinking, right?

Still sounding disappointed, and even a little bit sad, Hunter finally responded, "For a pretty girl like you? Of course. Just name when and where."

His voice drove me crazy. It gave me chills. But it was the chills of excitement.

We talked for a few more minutes before hanging up. I dusted the diary off a little more before finally opening it up to the first page.

_July 7, 1964._

_Julia asked why I hadn't been around lately. I was quick to fib and told her I was out visiting family. When really, my daddy had me locked in my room. I always dream about moving far, far away from here. About becoming a writer out west, maybe. _

_A woman can dream, just maybe, one day it will come true. One can only hope. I'd never cry, or be hit again. No more bruises. No more pain. _

_Happiness. Pure bliss. _

_Oh, no! I hear Daddy coming up the stairs, I'll write again soon._

"My great grandfather abused my grandma?" I said out loud, confused. What the hell, my family may be different, weird, maybe, but never abusive. Gram said that there was a lot of memories in Tulsa, but why would she want to stick around a place where she was abused?


	4. Deep

_July 12, 1964._

_Daddy made me scrub the whole house. He got mighty upset when I spilled his beer accidently. Knocked to the floor. Screamed at. Kicked like a dog. Nobody should be treated like this. I'm sure even the death row inmates weren't treated as bad as I was._

_I desperately wanted to flee the city, or maybe even the state. Start a new life. Find a husband, and have lots of babies. Anywhere would be better than this godforsaken place. _

_Say 'Goodbye' and 'Be gone' and 'be great' and be done and be free."_

_It's getting late now, I should go to bed._

"What the hell?" I thought to myself. Now I was really confused. If Gram wanted to leave so bad, why didn't she? It was back in the old days, you could leave so easily. Why did she take being treated like that? It just didn't make any sense.

I was about to read another page before my door swung open. I quickly tossed the diary under my bed, right as my mom walked in my room.

"What are you doing, Nalz? How was Gram's house?" she asked.

"You know, Grammy-like," I laughed, "she gave me some photo albums and stuff," I said, directing her over to the box.

She picked up one of the albums, "Oh my..." she began, "Your father and I getting married!" she broke out in laughter. "I have to show him this, you don't mind, do you, Nala?"

I shook my head, "Have at it!"

And with that, she left my room with the photo album.

I continued looking through the diary for a few more hours. Page after page, it was just Gram complaining about wanting to leave her father. Something, I don't know what, made me feel for her. I felt a connection.

I felt the energy from it. It's something that you can't even explain. You just felt like you were there, in real life.

It was powerful.


	5. Flashback

_Late July, 1964._

I did my usual rounds that I do during each and every summer. Clean the house, get the vegetables from the garden, get the eggs from the hens. This was life. This was _my_ life. This was _my _ hell. My own living, breathing hell. And my father was the devil himself, I swear.

I walk in the kitchen and start to prepare dinner. I peel potatoes, slice carrots, and stick a ham in the oven.

"Elaine, go get me a beer," my daddy shouted.

It was 5'oclock, Daddy was already drunk. He had been drunk for several hours already. I quickly got him a beer before he could beat me like one of those slaves that they have in Georgia. I went into the den and handed him his beer. He scowled at me, but didn't say anything.

I went back to making our dinner. It's always just been me and him. Momma died when I was just a little girl, so I don't remember much of her. I wear her necklace everyday. It's the only thing I have left of her.

I never knew how she died, though. My grandaddy always thought that my momma pissed my daddy off one day, so he offed her. I try not thinking about that awful possibility, though. Daddy had been a drunk ever since I could remember. Even at the age of 3, I'd still be bringing him beers. If I didn't, he'd hit me. He'd hit me hard.

Never once though, was I afraid of him. I always told myself that I would run away before he could ever hurt me. Boy, was I wrong. I've lived through 15 years of beatings, and not one person has suspected Daddy beating me like an old rug.

_'How did you get that black eye?' _or_ 'What about that cut, or that bruise?'_, were the questions I faced daily after a beating.

"I fell," or, "I ran into a wall," were my excuses.

They worked, usually.

Until one day, my teacher suspected something was fishy. She made a report and a police man came to our house to investigate. Of course, daddy said nothing was wrong, that everything was all peachy keen, so the police left.

And that's when I would "have an accident". An accident that left me with a broken arm.

"Everything will be okay, Elaine," I told myself; When in reality, I didn't know if I'd live to see daylight ever again.

I always wondered what a normal family was like, mainly because I had never been around one. Daddy didn't let me have any friends. Rather yet, he didn't let me have any boyfriends.

A boy in school wrote me a poem, and Daddy saw it. Kicked.

"You been doin' something you shouldn't of with some boy?!" he'd screech.

Another kick.

"I don't want to lose you, Elaine, not like how I lost your dear old mother."

Grabbed by the hair, punched.

"I love you way to much."

Slap.

How could you say you love somebody, then turn around and do something cruel like that to them?

On the floor.

Kicked in the stomach.

I'd try to make a run for the door. But every time, Daddy would catch me.

Thrown to the ground, another kick to the head.

Unconscious.


End file.
